Perspective Highs
by Rum and Coke
Summary: Mainly about Hermione and Draco, the first chapter is an angsty songfic, the rest is kinda funny, yet scarring for poor Draco. Hermione and Draco will be together by the 5th chapter, and drunken Snapes are embarassing. PLEASE r&r 8]
1. One Angsty Christmas Eve

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, obviously. The characters and stuff is J.K. Rowling's, the song is Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls.

He sat with his knees to his chest, staring blankly into the distance, his breath coming in clouds of ice. His eyes glazed from the effects of the vodka that burned his throat like a frozen flame. The top of the astronomy tower seemed a lot colder than during class. He lay back, thinking of the one person who gave his life even a whisper of meaning, but who he could never touch. She deserved the best, something he was far from. Her chocolate eyes glittered like the jewels in his mother's favorite necklace, and her smile made him wish that he could have been born someone else, just so he would be worthy of holding her hand.

_And I'd give up forever to touch you,_

'_Cause I know that you feel me somehow,_

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,_

_And I don't want to go home right now._

She sat on the window sill in the owlrey, thinking of the only boy she had ever truly wanted, but knew she could never have. Her frozen breath mixed with the smoke, as she slowly relaxed against the stone wall. As the burning drug fell from her hand to the ground so many feet below, she closed her eyes and imagined his face; his eyes were like the full moon hanging alone above the lake, his hair like pale, silken strands of white gold, making her long to run her fingers through it, and feel its softness. She became lost in a fantasy, one where he could smile freely, and they could laugh together without starting a war.

_And all I can taste is this moment,_

_All I can breathe is your life,_

_And sooner or later it's over,_

_I just don't want to miss you tonight._

The two teenagers looked into the sky, staring into the brightest star. Neither of them noted that this star was actually Venus, patron goddess of love, but what did it matter? The wish they shared could never come true, because even though Voldemort had been defeated, the war between light and dark would never truly end. Draco Malfoy would always be the sneering son of a deatheater, and Hermione Granger would always be the mudblood friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived. This would never change, and any relationship between them would bring the war roaring back to life.

_And I don't want the world to see me,_

'_Cause I don't think that they'd understand,_

_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am._

On opposite sides of the castle, two people sat; their perspective highs ebbing in the cold, lonely hours of the night. Trying to stand, the young woman fell to the stone floor, scraping the skin from her hands and knees as she threw up in a mound of straw. Through a dream-like haze, she staggered back to her dorm, empty of people during the holiday break. As the moon sank closer to the western horizon, the young man crawled to the trap door to let himself down. As he reached for the rope ladder, he lost his balance and landed hard on the floor five feet below. He stood, clutching at the wall for support, and realized that the empty bottle had shattered in his fall. Blood trickled from his arm, but there didn't appear to be any glass lodged in. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and tripped down to his dungeon common room in a fog of misery and pain. He didn't want to hear the snores of his only roommate still present.

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,_

_Or the moment of truth in your lies,_

_When everything feels like the movies,_

_And you bleed just to know you're alive._

The next day, Christmas, met a castle of mostly happy occupants. In the Gryffindor common room, a young woman laughed with her friends. But behind her happy mask, she felt completely empty. She smiled anyway, because she knew they would never understand if they knew what was wrong. Hermione Granger couldn't be upset about anything; she was one of the Golden Trio, and they had won the war. Eight floors below, a young man opened presents, joked with his friends, and made fun of the first years that had come back drenched and cold from the snow outside. He had merely stopped feeling, because if he hadn't he would've exploded. Not feeling anything was better than explaining agonizing screams of rage and frustration to his peers. Besides, Draco Malfoy did not cry. Everyone knew that his heart was too cold to.

_And I don't want the world to see me,_

'_Cause I don't think that they'd understand,_

_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am._


	2. Saturday Mornings

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Hairything. Sorry to disappoint.

Hermione rolled over and hit the floor with a muttered swear. She hated Saturday mornings. There was more often than not

a hangover from the night before, and now she had a cut over her left eye that she couldn't explain. Rubbing her aching head, she stumbled

into the bathroom. After showering, brushing a vile taste from her mouth, tripping over Crookshanks, and dressing in jeans with a tanktop

and a hoodie, she glowered her way down to the common room. It was the week after Holiday Break, and already things were going badly.

She'd missed six questions on a test for Flitwick, fell asleep in History of Magic, and almost pushed Harry off the Astronomy Tower for

assuming her bad mood had something to do with cramps. Subsequently, when she hadn't paid attention in Transfiguration and missed what

she was supposed to be doing, she turned the glass jar on her desk into a miniature Harry that cried like a little girl when she died his hair

pink and then sat down and sulked when she gave him a Mohawk. It was very amusing until the professor took ten points from Gryffindor

and confiscated the, uh, Harry-thing. Hah! Hairy-thing! It was now the Hairything. Hermione laughed at this thought, making a few first

years giving her funny looks decide to do their homework somewhere else. She was lost in a contemplation of how horrible her week had

been when she nearly ran into the boys that had stood to greet her. "Oi! Bloody hell, Hermione, I only have two feet; I'd like to keep them

both." She glared at Ron. What an idiot. But of course, she would never say that to him. Well, not in those precise words, anyway. "Ron.

Ron, Ron, Ron. Ron, has anyone ever told you how completely," Ron's little mind worked furiously at this. Why had she said his name five

times? It didn't seem like a good thing to him though. "and utterly STUPID you are? I mean, seriously, I've been out ALL NIGHT, doing

something a sober person might have remembered, and I come back expecting you to at the VERY least leave me in peace, but NOOO!

YOU had to make some STUPID remark, and make my head hurt worse from your utter STUPIDITY!" Ron was afraid. Hermione had yelled

before, but before she hadn't foamed at the mouth. Luckily, Harry stepped in. "Hermione, let's just stop yelling, peace out, and meditate on

this. Was that a very groovy thing to say to Ronnie?" There was just something about his tone that sounded a bit, off, to Hermione. But

Harry wasn't done yet. Putting an arm around both Ron and Hermione, he said, "We're all friends here. Let us spread the love and joy that

comes from making peace. Now hug and say sorry." Hermione looked at him, completely confused. Then she saw the far away look in his

dilated pupils. Harry, the Chosen One, the Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived, was now Completely Stoned. Hermione hung her head, and

laughed her hung-over arse off. The first years in on the other side of the common room got up and left, muttering darkly and shooting her

death glares. The earsplitting shriek was even worse for Ron. He was standing about three inches in front of her, and couldn't move because

of his stoned friend's arm. Oh yes. Ron hated Saturday mornings.


	3. Frightening Teachers

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  Or his sexy enemy, Draco Malfoy.  I do, however, own a really cool dragon-shaped incense burner where the smoke comes out of the mouths of the dragons! I got it for my birthday! Two days ago!

Draco woke to the shouting of his (unfortunately) returned roommates. Apparently Vince (Crabbe, okay? It's Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. I assume he'll call his friends by their first names) had eaten Blaise's bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, and was now choking on the bag. Draco sat up, rubbing his blood-shot eyes.

"It serves you right anyway! First of all, they were _mine, _second of all, you should've been smart enough to _not eat the bloody bag!_ Does your mum have to request the toys for children 3 and under when you buy Happy Meals in muggle London? Or is she afraid you'd eat it? Seriously how thick can you get?" Blaise ranted while attempting to dislodge the small silk bag from his roommate's throat.

Draco picked up his wand from his bedside table and pointed it spitefully at his "friend's" stomach, and left disgustedly as he began to throw up everything he'd eaten in the past two hours. (Which was surprisingly a lot, seeing as it was only 9 in the morning.) Draco stumbled down the stairs, muttering about stupid, half-troll ogres with eating disorders. "At least it's Saturday." He thought.

He liked Saturday mornings. No one wanted to make him go anywhere, he could put off his homework, and it was generally quiet, seeing as most people either were hungover or afraid of annoying the hungover people. He got to the common room and nearly stopped breathing. Snape was there, which wasn't all that unusual, but usually Snape didn't wear a beer-stained toga. Or conjure buckets of whisky and pass them around to everyone he could see. Or dance on the tables singing "Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Brittany Spears.

As he spotted Draco, he promptly fell off the table and shrieked like an eleven year old girl in a Backstreet Boys concert. "Draco! Cometh! Thy must join the festivities! Let us all drink to health of our mighty monarch, Banjo the Clown!" (I got that from Order of the Stick, by Richard Berlew. If you type "Order of the Stick" on Google, you should find it. It's hilarious.)

Just then the fire turned green and someone stepped out of it. "Severus! What on Earth are you doing?" shouted the voice of the transfiguration teacher. Draco spun around, relieved, but realized he was wrong. There would be no order in the dungeons today. Mcgonagol (spelling?) was wearing a toga matching Snapes, and her hair fell down to her knees. As he watched, her face seemed to flicker strangely. "You're singing it wrong! It's like this!" she shrieked, and joined him on the desk. Her face flickered even more. "Oh bother this stupid charm!" she yelled happily," I don't see why Dumbledore insists on the students thinking we're all senile!"

She snapped her fingers and the flickering stopped, but her features were now of a much younger, and much hotter, witch. "Mini! I was wondering who you were! I can never get used to seeing you pretend to be old! Seriously, when you're 28, it's disturbing to see your girlfriend looking 60!" Snape yelled giddily. Draco was completely dumbstruck. Then, his eyes very round, he became mentally scarred. He ran to the dungeon corridor, screaming like a banshee on helium and scratching his eyes, attempting to remove the pictures of his teachers dirty dancing in very loose togas on the table he usually did homework on.

As he emerged into a blessed drunken teacher-free classroom, the blood in his eyes obscuring his vision, he ran into something solid-ish, but not so much that it didn't fall down and yell "Ow!" at him. Draco fell to the floor, sobbing and shouting something about drunk teachers and conspiracies to make the students think the hot teachers were ugly and old. Hermione picked herself up, staring uncertainly at the obviously high boy in front of her, and wondered what kind of hallucinogen could cause a trip as bad as the one he seemed to be having. The deserted room was offering her no help with him, and his body was blocking the only door.

What do you think? Good? Bad? So pathetically stupid that I should be pushed out a window? Please review! Even if you didn't read it! I don't care! And thankyou very, very much to iheartblackdogsirius, who out of 127 hits was the only one to review. Read her stories! They are good! Especially the Evil Muffin one!


	4. Enebriate!

Disclaimer: I only own the hairything from chapter 2.

Hermione didn't know what to do. Draco was trippin' like a giraffe in rollerskates, and he was laying on her wand while blocking the exit. Being the kind, thoughtful, and clever girl she was, she came up with a wonderful solution.

"Ow! What the f- What'd you kick me for? Ow! My nose! Ow, ow, ow!" "Stop whining, you crack-head. What are you smoking anyway?" "Who is that? Ow! My eyes still hurt from trying to gouge them out! I can't see you." "Oh, really? He he he. I mean, uh, this is, um, you don't know me. I'm a… Ravenclaw… 6th year. Yeah. What are you trippin' on? Shrooms?"

"What? No, I'm not high. I think. I don't know what Snape put in that rum, though." "You stole alcohol from a teacher? You know we're not allowed to have it on school grounds, you idiot! You're going to get in so much trouble!" "No, I didn't steal it! He forced it down my throat! Lord, you sound just like Granger." "Uh, um, no I'm definitely not her. Or him. Don't know who you're talking about. I'm in Hufflepuff, no Grangers there."

"You just said you were in Ravenclaw!" "Did I, silly me, I must've gotten confused. You know how stupid Hufflepuffs are. I mean, look at Ernie Macmillan. If he didn't wear sandals all the time I doubt he'd be able to count to twenty! Seriously, I would _die _if the hat put me in Hufflepuff." "You just said you are in Hufflepuff! What the hell! Who are you?"

"I'd tell you, but you're laying on my wand. Get off." "Oh. Sorry. Here." "Thank you." Hermione took her precious stick and pointed it at Malfoy's chest. Sure, she dreamed of him when she was high, but it was easy to suppress such feelings while sober. Now to exact revenge for all those horrible insults… But, unfortunately, Draco chose that time to wipe the blood from his eyes and his vision cleared up. "Her- Granger! What the hell?"

Then he grabbed his wand from his pocket, and proceeded to point it at Hermione. Of course, he would love to get her drunk, but- Wait a minute. 'I know a spell for that.' He thought gleefully. "Enebriate!" Hermione blinked. Ooh, she knew that spell. She also recognized that she would be sober for about two more seconds. "Enebriate!" Draco stared. How could he forget that she would have time to react?

A silly grin rose onto Hermione's face, soon mirrored by Draco. "So, Draco, what shall we do?" Hermione tried to say, but it came out more like "Draco! Le's go hexed lil Hufflepuffses!" "In return, Draco attempted to back away and hide, but instead stood up, grabbed Hermione's hand, and took off running for the Hufflepuff dorms, shouting "Weeeeeeeeee!"

_So, how is it? Real sorry it took so long to post, my internet is STILL down and I have to wait until they fix the power line before I can do anything. So, what will happen next? Flying piggies, crying children, confused Ravenclaws? Please review! Thank you those who already reviewed! Iheartblackdogserious, my first reviewer ever, (yay! Thankyou!), and luvHaru7! You guys are awesome!_


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